


Snap Out Of It

by Tangela



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 04:02:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7742578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangela/pseuds/Tangela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Geniuses don't play dumb without a reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snap Out Of It

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Exorin, I hope you like it!
> 
> (I don't often write Chekov's accent this thick anymore, but since it was requested, I hope it's not too hard to read.)

“Mr. Scott, can you help me vizh zhis..?”

Scotty manages to crawl out from under the console he’s repairing without hitting his head (a small feat in of itself) and stands up, peering at what’s in Chekov’s hands. It’s a little circuit board hooked up with wires, part of a much larger one (a piece of ingenuity on Scotty’s part, if he does say so himself, as it means that any problematic component can be repaired separately, as opposed to having seven engineering staff fighting each other for space to work on the entire board). It’s a rather simple little thing, he wouldn’t have expected Chekov to have any problems with it – and the wires are connected and twisted in such an over the top manner that it looks as though a child has been playing with it.

“Why, lad, I’d have thought you coulda rigged one of these up in your sleep,” he chides light-heartedly, “Look at this, it’s not like you at all.”

Chekov looks down ashamedly. “Sorry, sir.”

Scotty panics, guilt immediately washing over him. “No no, it’s alright. I just meant- Look, come you over here with me and we’ll get this sorted, alright?”

Chekov nods, brightening up, and follows Scotty to his office. Well, if it can be called that anymore. It’s more of a pile of half-finished projects and forgotten cups of coffee with a desk and chair by this point. Scotty sits down to take a better look at the board, Chekov clearing a little space on the desk to perch on, one leg stretched out to balance his heel on the arm of Scotty’s chair.

“D’you see this bit here?” he asks, looking up to make sure that Chekov can see what he’s talking about. He can’t stop himself from noticing the way Chekov is positioned – leaning back with his hands planted on the desk behind, legs spread wider than Scotty would deem appropriate. He clears his throat loudly to distract himself, swallows a few times. Was his throat this dry the whole time?

“D’you see this bit here?” he tries again, and Chekov leans down to look, face suddenly very close to Scotty’s, one hand on his own knee and the other on Scotty’s to balance himself.

 _‘Is he squeezing my leg or am I imagining it? Christ, man, pull yourself together.’_ Scotty can feel himself going very red.

“Right, so, this wire here,” he attempts desperately for the third time, “needs to go here, like this, see? And this wire-“

“Ay, Mr. Scott,” Chekov interrupts with a sigh, shaking his head. Scotty jolts, that was _definitely_ a squeeze that time. “You’re going too fast for me.”

Scotty found that very hard to believe. Chekov had helped him repair and rebuild vital sections of the ship more times than he could count, often in less than ideal conditions, and _this_ wee thing was giving him trouble? He’d seen Chekov do this before, sometimes in a manner of minutes. Something’s up. Scotty decides to give him the benefit of the doubt this time, maybe the lad’s tired.

“Right-“ he starts, barely getting the word out before Chekov is interrupting again.

“I cannot see vhat you are doing like zhis,” he explains, “I need to see it in the vay zhat I vould do it. Can you do zhat?”

“I’m uh, not quite sure what you mean, lad.”

Chekov stands up, clearing a little more space on the desk. “I’ll show you. Stand behind me.”

Scotty tentatively does as he’s told, flinching as if he’s been burned when Chekov takes his wrists in hand and guides him closer, threading Scotty’s arms under his.

“I need to see exactly how it is you are doing zhis. How you showed me before vas fine to you, but for me it vas backvards. Zhis vay, I can see exactly vhat is happening. Do you understand?”

Scotty’s throat is very dry, and this time he _knows_ what’s causing it. “A-Aye, lad.”

“Good. Now you can see vhat you are doing ower my shoulder, here I’ll move a little closer so I’m not blocking your sight-“

Scotty blanches as Chekov steps back against him, suddenly very close and very warm and _Christ why is he moving like that against me?_

“Zhere, now show me.”

Scotty has almost forgotten what the hell he’s even supposed to be doing by this point. He cranes his head over Chekov’s shoulder, moving his hands over the wires in front of him, acutely aware of how his arms are brushing against Chekov’s waist.

“This bit here – y’see? – needs to go here, and we need to untangle this wee wire here-“

Chekov places his hands over Scotty’s, as if to mirror his actions. Scotty’s convinced he’s going to have an aneurysm if Chekov keeps this up. There must be a medal for this, some kind of commendation, Scotty’s convinced he’s earned it. This is ridiculous.

“Okay,” and Chekov nods along, as if he’s genuinely engrossed in what Scotty’s doing. “So I put zhis part _here_ -“ - and he lifts Scotty’s hand and moves it a little to the right – “and zhen _zhis_ part vill go here…okay, zhis is starting to make sense.”

On ‘sense’, Scotty distinctly feels Chekov back into him, as if he could be any damn closer, ass brushing against Scotty’s crotch, and that’s it, that’s the last straw, Scotty’s had enough, thank you very much. He backs away, quite suddenly. Chekov turns around, startled.

“Is eweryzhing alright, Mr. Scott?” he asks, and he looks so concerned, so confused, even a little hurt, that Scotty feels bad. _For Christ’s sake, man, all the kid’s askin’ is a wee bit of help here, and you’re turnin’ it into- Well, let’s not go into that._

Scotty shakes his head, as if he’s not sure what Chekov is talking about. “Aye, just my back was a bit sore standin’ like that, right-“ He moves in close again, not sure if he’s doing this for Chekov or to feed his own curiosity. He does like Chekov, of course he’s noticed how attractive he is. Okay, how _gorgeous_ he is. But this isn’t the time or the place, and there’s the age difference, and the rank difference, and- Anyway, it’s not as if he’s going to act on it, so surely he’s allowed to indulge himself in an innocent gesture like this? ‘ _It sure doesn’t feel innocent.’_ He’s moving his hands in a bit of a daze now, going through the motions, acutely aware of Chekov’s hands on his, his back pressed against Scotty’s front, hair grazing his face, how _good_ he smells-

“And zhen vizh zhese two parts connected, zhis can go back on zhe board, good as new!” Chekov exclaims, snapping Scotty out of- Well, whatever the hell that was going on in his head.

“Aye, lad, that’s it, well done,” he confirms, and he notices Chekov’s ears burning a little from the praise, “Now we can put this ba-“

He’s suddenly cut off by Chekov turning around, sliding down him _Christ what the hell is he doing_ before he realises that Chekov is just crouching to slip out from under his arm. He turns around in a daze, not sure what he’s supposed to be doing.

“Are you sure you are okay, Mr. Scott?” Chekov asks, and he takes a step forward, Scotty taking a step back, nowhere to go. Chekov takes another step, and Scotty’s ran out of space, knees bumping the edge of his chair and he sits down, the wind being knocked from him.

“W-Why’d you ask?” Scotty tries to ask casually, but it comes out as a dry whisper.

“You just do not seem like yourself.” Chekov leans down, hands on the arms of the Scotty’s chair, and he’s trapped. “Is zhere anyzhing I can do?”

His face and voice are just _dripping_ with concern, and there’s something else- _No._

Scotty clutches the circuit board to his chest, like a mouse trapped in a corner by a very large, very hungry cat. “I’m fine,” he manages to squeak, and each word is a struggle, throat closing up completely now. _Pull yourself together, man._

Chekov leans in a little closer. “Are you sure? You look…scared.”

_I am._

This isn’t like Chekov at all, he always keeps a respectable distance, gives everyone their space. Maybe this is a dream, _aye I’ve hit my head again on one of those damn overhead bulkheads and I’m in Sickbay with a concussion…_

He’s looking at Chekov with an almost dreamy expression now, and Chekov laughs, breath brushing Scotty’s face like a kiss.

“You’re wery cute, Mr. Scott,” he dares to say, “Has anyone ewer told you?”

Scotty’s still very far away, of course none of this is happening, he’ll wake up any minute with McCoy leaning over him and reprimanding him for the fifteenth time.

“Been told a few times, aye,” he murmurs, voice small and airy, and Chekov’s laughing again, and then _oh no_ he’s kissing him and _Christ no_ and Chekov’s hands are in his hair and _fuck_ reality comes crashing down on Scotty’s head with a bang. He jerks back, almost toppling to the floor, chair scraping back no more than a centimetre. _Why doesn’t this damn thing have wheels?!_

“What- What are you- Jesus, what are you _doin’_?”

Chekov’s still smiling. “Vhat does it look like?”

“You cannae- No, this ca- I’m not allowin’ it, I’m shuttin’ this down now, I’m sorry, no-“ Scotty’s babbling, words fighting out of him all at once.

Chekov presses a finger to Scotty’s lips, and he immediately shuts up.

“Listen for one minute,” he says, voice soft but commanding, “If you can look me in the eyes and say “no”, then I vill valk avay, zhis never happened and ve’ll continue our vork. And if you say “yes”…” He drags his finger down Scotty’s lip. “I vill make it wery much vorzh your time.”

How is he supposed to say no to an offer like that? He’s only human. He grabs Chekov by the shoulders, pulling him into his lap, and kisses him, hard and desperate, like he’s never kissed anyone in his life. Chekov immediately responds, settling in Scotty’s lap as best he can and wrapping his arms around his neck, kissing him back, just as hard and oh just as desperate. Scotty’s hands are on his hips, thumbs digging in hard enough to leave marks and Chekov groans, holding him close as if he was going to change his mind.

Like there was a chance of that happening, Scotty was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, isn’t going to question this, not now. He’s gasping when Chekov pulls back, face flushed and heart racing. Chekov slides out of his lap, and _Christ almighty_ onto the floor, pretty eyes glancing up at him through long eyelashes. He doesn’t break eye contact while he undoes Scotty’s trousers, gently tugging them down. Scotty’s never been one for eye contact, always makes him uncomfortable, but God, if Chekov’s eyes weren’t the most mesmerising he’d ever seen. He’s still half convinced he’s lying in a bed in Sickbay, there’s no way this is happening, not to him, when _fuck_ Chekov’s slipping his hand into his boxers, gently pulling the waistband down with the other.

“Are- Are you sure you’re okay with this, Mr. Chekov?”

Chekov looks up at him with a smile. “I zhink you’we earned my first name by now,” he says, and Scotty doesn’t get a chance to reply, doesn’t get a chance to _think,_ as Chekov takes Scotty’s cock into his mouth, so slowly that it has to be deliberate, and his mouth is so tight and warm, his tongue barely touching and _Christ_ he never figured Chekov for a tease.

“Pavel-“ he manages to breathe, fingers twisted in Chekov’s hair, tight enough to make him groan and _fuck_ the vibration of it sends a shiver right up Scotty’s spine.

If Chekov’s mouth wasn’t very much so already preoccupied, he’d be smiling – he can feel every reaction in Scotty’s body to what he’s doing, every gasp, every little shiver. He moves back, almost as if he’s about to stop, and sinks back down, his head bobbing in an even rhythm, a little moan escaping his throat from time to time and Scotty jolts every time, skin breaking out in goosebumps. He’s good, they both know he’s good, although Scotty never expected him to be like this – he presumed he’d be sloppy and eager and inexperienced. Not that he’d thought about it. _Oh, who am I kiddin’?_

Chekov begins to pick up the pace, knowing how close Scotty is judging by his movements and how tight he’s pulling at Chekov’s hair.

“ _Fuck-_ Pavel- I think I’m gonna-“ and he tries to move, but Chekov digs his fingers into his hips, holding Scotty still, keeping his pace and _fuckfuckfuck_ everything feels white hot and he’s coming down Chekov’s throat. Chekov lets him ride it out, swallowing as much as he can. An intense shudder shoots right through Scotty and he collapses back in his chair, suddenly exhausted. He looks down at Chekov, feeling both guilt and lust at the sight of him, breathless and hair a mess, cum dripping down his chin. _His._ Chekov smiles up at him, wiping his mouth with his fingers, licking the mess off him.

“Christ, are you tryin’ to kill me?” Scotty asks, and he can’t help but laugh.

Chekov shrugs. “Maybe. But I zhink you vould die happy,” he teases.

Scotty pulls his trousers back up, attempting to tidy himself up. “Can’t argue with you there, la- Pavel,” he corrects himself, and Chekov smiles. “But I have to ask, why me?”

Chekov looks at him as if it’s obvious. “You’re intelligent, you’re funny, you’re wery handsome, and ve get along vell. Vhy not you? And besides, I knew zhat if I did not do somezhing, zhe likelihood of you doing it vas practically non-existent.”

Scotty has so many rebuttals brewing, and Chekov shakes his head, as if he knows. “I do not vant to hear it, all I vant to know is if you vould like more.”

“More?” Scotty asks, exasperated.

 “Da, I am more zhan villing. But I vould at least like to be taken to dinner first. I _am_ a gentleman, you know.”

Scotty laughs. “Aye, that I think I can manage.”

Chekov grins. “Good. Zhen should ve get back to vork, Mr. Scott? Ve hawe been in here a long time, people vill talk.”

Scotty nods. “Aye. And call me Scotty, I think you’ve earned it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
